


Chasing Fireworks

by owlsshadows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background IwaKyou, Background Ushiten, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 17:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsshadows/pseuds/owlsshadows
Summary: Oikawa Tooru has been mesmerized by soulmates since childhood, to the point where he actually built his personality in a way that makes it easier to find his own.He’s ten when he develops the game. It’s new, it’s thrilling, it’s genius. It’s an elegant way to his pursuit, and it’s so clever he can’t help but tremble with excitement the afternoon his plan crystallizes.Simply put, he becomes sociable.It takes him years to invent and evolve into Oikawa Tooru, the popular guy. The persona he creates is outgoing, cheerful and easily approachable, someone who hugs and touches people easily. Divisive, he may become, but better be someone people think about than someone invisible – because the more he does it, the more natural it becomes.





	Chasing Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> this took me ages to complete but it's here
> 
> shameless fluff.

Tooru is three years old and his favorite fairy tale is the retelling of how his parents met. His father is a great storyteller and he twists the story again and again, night after night; once it’s a dragon separating the two star-crossed lovers (at this point Tooru’s mom smacks his dad with the fresh laundry, arguing that grandma is not a dragon – and Tooru laughs, because grandma kind of looks like a dragon if you squint a little), another time it’s the knights of Aoba Jousai, demanding Tooru’s dad to choose between his mom and knighthood (“He was missing so much from practice because he kept sneaking around Niiyama Girls’ Academy,” Tooru’s mom recalls, laughing, “that his team actually threatened to kick him out.”)

Either way the story is told, Tooru’s favorite moment of each variation is when the magic happens – when his mom, a fiery first year in elementary, decides to slap his dad for mocking her old and dirty plushy; when her hand meets his face and the world envelopes in sparkle and light. Soulmates, they call it, the magic of the chosen ones, and even after fifteen years of marriage, Tooru’s parents can still cast the sparkle placing their palms together. Tooru delights in the sight, happy laughter gurgling out of his mouth, and he throws himself between his parents, hugging them.

At age three, sappy words like _soulmates_ and _destiny_ sound all great and vibrant, and Tooru cannot wait to meet his chosen one.

 

*

 

Tooru is five and a half when he meets Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan is skinny and suntanned, beaming a smile at him in the backyard of the daycare with a missing front tooth and a butterfly net in hand.

“You’re Tooru, right?” he asks and Tooru nods, happy that he doesn’t have to name himself. He mixes up the sounds ‘r’ and ‘l’, introducing himself as Toolu to everyone – and he can’t, simply can’t get it right, no matter how hard he tries. “I’m Iwa– Iwaizumi Hajime!” the kid says loud and proud, puffing his chest out, unbothered by his own stutter.

Tooru feels safe around Iwa-chan, safe to speak and safe to make mistakes. Their interests differ greatly: while Tooru likes to play with the ball, Iwa-chan prefers collecting bugs, and when Tooru likes hide and seek, Iwa-chan would rather play tug-of-war – but it never comes between them, and when one day Tooru gets cornered in the sand by two bigger kids who pick on him for his lisp, Iwa-chan raises his voice and his arm to protect Tooru from the bullies – and the sight of his arm above Tooru with a freshly caught stag beetle struggling to set itself free from Iwa-chan’s clammy grasp burns into Tooru’s memory forever, along with the power ranger band aid on Iwa-chan’s elbow. Tooru stands, dusting off the sand from his pants, and he sticks his tongue out at his bullies. He knows Iwa-chan for two days now, but he already knows Iwa-chan will be his bestest friend forever.

Two weeks later, he calls himself Tooru correctly for the first time. Iwa-chan jumps on him in celebration, and they continue chanting his name in canon until one of the teachers catches them and calms them down. At night, when his mom and dad kisses him, and he sees the fireworks crackle between their touches gently, a strange feeling of emptiness settles in his stomach.

Iwa-chan never sparkles.

 

*

 

When he witnesses soulmates finding each other for the first time, Tooru is almost seven. He stands in line to buy his favorite candy, Iwa-chan in tow, and he is not ready for the smoldering of light that happens between the cashier boy and the customer before him in the line. He misses the moment of contact, leaning back to tell Iwa-chan some stupid joke, and by the time he turns back to see why some people started cheering in the shop, all he can see is the vibrant red blush on the face of the cashier as he packs all the snacks of the customer into a plastic bag. He sees a flicker of flash between them as the customer reaches out to take his purchase away – the exchange so short Tooru can barely see – but he does notice the business card the customer leaves on the counter.

It fascinates Tooru somehow, the idea that it can reach him anywhere, anytime – and no matter how Iwa-chan reasons against it, he becomes addicted to fate.

 

*

 

He’s ten when he develops the game. It’s new, it’s thrilling, it’s genius. It’s an elegant way to his pursuit, and it’s so clever he can’t help but tremble with excitement the afternoon his plan crystallizes.

Simply put, he becomes sociable.

It takes him years to invent and evolve into Oikawa Tooru, the popular guy. The persona he creates is outgoing, cheerful and easily approachable, someone who hugs and touches people easily. Divisive, he may become, but better be someone people think about than someone invisible – because the more he does it, the more natural it becomes and people start to forget about their awareness around his touches. He annoys Iwa-chan with the little things he makes up for himself: the flirtatious tone, the flailing hands, the charming smile and the wink to the audience – but at the end of the day, he meets new people and touches each and every one.

With time he learns how to hide the signs of excitement before he touches someone – the way his breath hitches and his heart races right before the touch, the way his fingers tremble, ever so slightly, tiny beads of sweat pooling in his palm from nervousness – but no matter how smooth or efficient he becomes, the excitement never quite leaves him; he feels like his heart stops in that millisecond right before a touch each and every time.

With time, he also learns to hide the signs of his disappointment when his touch does not ignite any light, when his fingers brush against someone and nothing happens, but the anticlimax shattering the flutters of his heart in their wake.

 

*

 

Tooru is in the second year of middle school when he receives his first confession. The girl is from the neighboring class, she’s shy but cute and Tooru accepts her feelings in hopes that he will see sparkles when he finally manages to hold her hand. He waits for her until her band practice finishes every day, accompanying her to the station and seeing her off as she mounts her train – all the while buzzing with impatience to touch, to see, to experience. It takes him two weeks to ploy a seemingly accidental touch, their hands brushing against one another walking side by side. Two weeks to gather hope, the excitement of waiting piling up little by little, brick by brick, building a castle of expectations around him. His castle, though, seems to be brittle, for a gentle touch to be enough to shatter it to pieces – and as skin bumps into skin, the lack of sensation fills him with a hollow feeling of darkness.

The bitter aftertaste of his first, fleeting romance teaches him tact. He is not less charming, nor less sociable afterwards – but he adapts to new rules he sets, and he hopes less, hands skimming through the crowds of people flocking around him with gentle curiosity and tamed eagerness.

 

*

 

High school finds him in a favorable position; he soon becomes the center of attention with his own fan club waiting for him after practice with handmade cookies.

From friendly punches to pats on shoulders, from fist bumps and high fives to sneaky fingers cheating their way across foreign skin while accepting cookies – he has a plethora of techniques to play around with.

Volleyball, however, has him cautious. Even if due to the vicious nature of finding your soulmate in the middle of a grand tournament, athletes are no longer shaking hands before and after each match, captains are still obliged to do. Tooru is a second year and the main setter of his team when he watches both the renowned Johzenji and Wakutani Minami schools self-destruct because their captains found out they were each other’s soulmates at their official handshake right before the match.

“Iwa-chan, if I become captain, I have to go pre-touch the other captains to make sure we aren’t soulmates,” he says to his best friend standing next to him.

“Please rephrase that for the love of God,” Iwa-chan replies, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, then _when_ I become captain, I have to pre-touch them all.”

“Oh, shut up, Shittykawa, it’s painful to listen to you,” Iwa-chan says, but Tooru can see the playful glint in his friend’s eyes. They leave the stands for their next match laughing, Makki joining in with his trademark snarky comments.

 

*

 

Third year rolls in and Tooru becomes captain, he really does.

And he goes and pre-touches all captains as promised, dragging an ever-grumbling Iwa-chan along over the corridors and into the restrooms all across the Sendai City Gymnasium. _Well_. To be fair, he touches all captains except Ushijima: the horror that overcomes him at the sheer thought of the possibility that his soulmate might be Ushijima – the much dreaded, unbeatable Ushijima, the jinx to his glorious career in high school volleyball – renders Tooru careful beyond reason.

It is not until the very minute prior to their fated handshake before the finals of the Interhigh Preliminaries that his rigid, cold fear melts in his stomach. It is during Shiratorizawa’s warm-up that the tall redhead blocker nicknamed the Guess Monster – for reason; and truly, Tooru would give each and every Shiratorizawa player the nickname Monster gladly – walks up to Ushijima and casually ruffles his hair, shaking a handful of sparkles out.

“He found his soulmate already, that bastard Ushiwaka,” Tooru grumbles under his breath, relief quickly overshadowed by annoyance and jealousy. “If I knew this, I didn’t have to bring a pair of gloves…”

“Is this all that worries you at the moment?” Iwa-chan asks in reply, shoving a ball in Tooru’s hands. “Come on, warm-up, _Captain_.”

 

They lose.

Tendou jumps on Ushijima in celebration, creating their own personal fireworks in the gymnasium until Ushijima holds his hands down to suppress the sparkles.

Tooru leaves the court with head held high in defiance.

Iwa-chan slaps his back stronger than usual.

“Spring High,” he says. “We win.”

“Of course we do,” Makki joins, hooking his arm around Tooru from the other side.

“We will mop the floor with Ushiwaka,” Mattsun adds, jumping on Tooru from behind.

“We will,” Tooru replies, meeting their wicked grins.

 

*

 

Iwa-chan finds his soulmate in the late summer of third year.

Where Tooru is resourceful and scheming, collecting touches wherever he goes, Iwa-chan is cool, as if he couldn’t care less about it all (“Your behavior is ridiculous, Shittykawa,” he always says) and it’s infuriating Tooru, especially when Iwa-chan returns from break one day scratching the back of his head, admitting that he kind of set off a bundle of fireworks during one of his arm wrestling duels.

“No kidding,” Yudacchi nyooms in before Tooru could open his mouth. “Who’s it?”

“… Kyoutani,” Iwa-chan speaks after a long pause, voice quiet, almost lost in the noise of the classroom. He is not silent because he is overwhelmed – he is rarely overwhelmed by anything, and if any, he seems to be rather unfazed for someone finding his soulmate – his low volume is to keep things between friends, as much as possible. It is a notion wasted, however, as a shriek leaves Tooru’s lips before his thoughts could catch up.

“KyouKen-chan?!”

Iwa-chan sends him a death glare before he sighs.

“Yeah. Kyoutani Kentarou.”

“Oooh,” Yudacchi adds.

“I don’t know whether I’m more surprised or shocked,” Tooru says. “You don’t seem to be too similar.”

“I don’t think it’s about being similar,” Iwa-chan barks back, to which Yudacchi starts analyzing all their friends with known soulmates, trying to identify the different indicators they share. He manages to rule out that opposites would attract each other on the soulmate level, and proceeds to discovering the horoscopes of each of their matched friends, when Iwa-chan stops him. “Don’t overthink it. It’s no big deal. We sparkled, so what, it won’t make us immediately fall for each other, it doesn’t even mean that we will be friends…”

“KyouKen-chan!” Tooru repeats then, lifting his hand to his forehead theatrically. “For him to be Iwa-chan’s other half…”

“It’s not other half, Shittykawa. If anything, it’s two wholes complementing each other.”

“Pfft. Two holes.”

“You’re one fine jerk, aren’t you?”

 

Kyoutani, after months of skipping, returns to practice the next day. He is no less bratty or irritable than before, and his eyes follow Iwa-chan with the expression of hunted prey, but he returns, and that is all Tooru cares about.

“But is that ok?” Yudacchi asks. “For him to just return like this?”

“It’s not like he caused problems, so I guess it doesn’t matter as long as we can use him in a match,” Mattsun replies.

“Will he be able to keep up at practice?” Iwa-chan asks.

“Iwa-chan cold!” Tooru says, tone bouncy but keen eyes trained on the returnee. “This is no tone to talk about your soulmate.”

“Hush, Oikawa,” Iwa-chan grumbles in reply. “It’s fact that he’ll have blanks to fill.”

“Including communication,” Makki cuts in.

“Well,” Tooru says as Kyoutani dives in after the ball and receives it perfectly, “those are not the moves of someone who has not been practicing.”

“And you call me cold, huh?” Iwa-chan asks, slapping Tooru in the shoulder.

 

*

 

Iwa-chan really behaves as if having a soulmate was no big thing. He doesn’t spend less time with Tooru or more time with Kyoutani – in general, they barely even speak.

KyouKen-chan, on the other hand, goes crazy on his own way, challenging Iwa-chan in each and every sports activity possible.

“Yesterday it was baseball, today it’s running,” Makki, who has naturally assumed the role of the narrator, remarks.

“Rather, yesterday it was a homerun, today the winning of the school marathon,” Mattsun corrects, slapping Iwa-chan in the back. “For someone who doesn’t take this whole soulmate thing seriously, you do a formidable job pissing off your chosen one.”

“I’m not doing anything special,” Iwa-chan replies. “It’s him who takes it as a challenge.”

“Iwa-chan is just naturally gifted,” Tooru says. “If you have him on your team, you’re guaranteed to win the sports festival.”

“Are you complaining, Shittykawa?”

“Yes I do! It’s unfair.”

“You had Kyoutani on your team,” Iwa-chan says. “If only the two of you could communicate, you wouldn’t have lost the three-legged race so spectacularly, you know.”

“At least it was him who fell face first,” Tooru replies.

They laugh.

 

*

 

It is in the heightened emotional and sensational state of the third set of their semi-final against Karasuno that Tooru sees Iwa-chan and Kyoutani work as a pair for the first time.

They play the same role, therefore there are not many interactions between them on the court –except for the moment Karasuno’s pinch server tricks Kyoutani into receiving an overlong serve.

The panicked expression on Kyoutani’s face barely registers on Tooru’s mind, and he already writes off the hesitant overhead receive as a lost point, when Iwa-chan appears out of nowhere diving after the ball. He must have reacted even before Kyoutani touched the ball, unless he wouldn’t have time to reach all the way back – yet he returns the ball, which Watacchi manages to lift over the net.

It is not a moment Tooru has time to muse over during the match. It is much later that night, as he tosses in bed, pouting over their loss, that Tooru actually recalls it, and it drives him up against the wall.

He yearns for something, something special, a connection deeper than friendship or skin-deep relationships.

 

*

 

Graduation comes way too fast, and in between a Makki quietly crying and a Yudacchi totally wasted sobbing, Mattsun looks genuinely unfazed with his reddened, but otherwise dry eyes. Tooru looks at their trio fondly, camera in hand.

“How can I take a picture of you if you wail like that?” he asks, voice stable and face unfazed.

“We try our best,” Yudacchi whines, swaying dangerously in the arms of Mattsun. “This is the end of our high school career, Oikawa! This is it! We are no longer Seijou!”

“Why do you have to say it like that?” Makki asks, and finally, even Mattsun sheds a tear.

“Alright, then cry all you want, but smile as well at least,” Tooru replies.

Graduation seems weird. It is something that still haven’t managed to touch Tooru – he still stands strong and as charming as ever, leaving behind a trail of sobbing underclassmen as he takes one last stroll around school. _Saying goodbye to his kingdom_ , as Iwa-chan so aptly described it.

“Hey,” Tooru turns to Yudacchi. “Where’s Iwa-chan?”

“Haven’t seen them since morning,” he receives the reply from Mattsun instead, Yudacchi still sobbing so much that all his words come out as jumbled nonsense.

“Are you jealous? He might give his second button to someone at the moment,” Makki cuts in to tease Tooru, its effect little lacking as he says it with a red nose and hazy eyes.

“Giving out buttons? Iwa-chan?” Tooru laughs it off.

 

Then, gathered at a karaoke bar hours later and deep into the celebrations, Tooru spots that Iwa-chan indeed misses a button. For once he has the tact to keep it to himself – only to attack his childhood friend with questions the second they end up alone.

“I… we have a truce now,” Iwa-chan replies uncharacteristically meek, with ears reddening in embarrassment.

“A truce?!” Tooru asks, unbelieving. “Wait, you gave your second button to–”

“Kyoutani? Yes.”

“Holy hell. How come?”

“I don’t know,” Iwa-chan shrugs. “He finally won, I guess.”

“What did he challenge you in this time?”

“Not telling.”

“Iwa-chan.”

“Not until the day I die.”

“So… are you like… together now?”

“I don’t think so?” Iwa-chan says. “I mean, we called it a truce.”

“I see,” Tooru says, leaning closer.

It’s not the sunset that paints Iwa-chan a brighter shade of red.

“Was that truce a kiss? Did you hold hands? Out with it.”

“He swore to take Seijou to Nationals,” Iwa-chan replies.

“That’s it?” Tooru presses on.

“And he tried to kiss me, I guess. He touched his lips on here,” Iwa-chan gives in, pointing at the corner of his lips.

“Cute! Never thought KyouKen-chan could be this cute.”

“Hush, you.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Will you invite him on a date?”

“If he gets Seijou to Nationals, maybe I will consider it.”

“Cruel.”

 

*

 

University provides new hunting grounds to Tooru: with people from different divisions sharing classes and clubs, he has a wide range of people to meet with, and he proves to be an absolute master at getting invitations to as many gatherings as possible.

It all goes smooth.

It goes flawless.

He is on his way to a gathering downtown when the unimaginable happens.

They say that people who are out of luck may contact their soulmates in a crowd moving and shoving, like in-transit between flights or in the busy hours on public transport – even among his friends, it happened to Watacchi during lunch rush at the cafeteria, though later he found his soulmate given they attended the same school, obviously.

Of course, Tooru has always been aware of the off chance of something like this happening – just as someone is aware that airplanes may crash or ships may sink, yet they would never doubt their own vessel to fail under themselves. And yet it happens on a Thursday evening, in the after-work rush, in the middle of Sendai Station. Two trains arrive at the same time, the walkways get flooded with people, shoulders bump each other, hands knock, and Tooru’s hopes and dreams shatter in an instant.

Responses as to what feeling it is when soulmates touch differ from one person to the other, and Tooru has received as many descriptions as many times he asked about it. Some say it feels like a current running through one’s body; others describe it as heat blooming under the skin. Iwa-chan, when Tooru pestered him until he finally gave in, admitted that he didn’t feel anything special and if not for the fireworks sparkling in between them, he may have never noticed that Kyoutani was his soulmate.

But Tooru knows. The moment the person passes by him and bumps their shoulder in Tooru’s upper arm, he can feel it. It is not warm at all. It feels as if suddenly all life has been sucked out of him, turned upside down and pumped back in in rapid succession. It makes his head spin, his knees wobble. He nearly trips, losing his balance.

The sparkles that light up bright disappear just as fast as they appear. A few people react; a little girl’s voice chirps over the crowd. Tooru spins on his heels, scanning the crowd. He can’t see who passed him. Few heads turn suspiciously in his way, but a few heads turn on his side too. In the fraction of a second, the crowd forgets the commotion and moves on, pushing Tooru towards the exit where his friends are waiting for him.

Up on the surface, he finally breathes again. His heart thumps erratically, blood drumming a frenzied beat in his ears.

He opens the group chat and types in a message that he had something urgent come up. Turning his back to the road filled with pubs and restaurants, he decides to take a stroll in the park nearby.

 

*

 

“Believe me, it’s not that big of a tragedy,” his sister tells him, handing over a brand new can of beer. Tooru, ignoring the heap of cans already piling up under the swing he sits in, accepts it.

“I met them,” he replies, maybe for the thousandth time of the night. “I passed them and I have no idea who they were.”

“You know,” his sister says, settling beside him, “Some days I wish I didn’t meet mine.”

Tooru glances up, meeting his sister’s warm brown eyes. They got the same eyes, from their mother; his sister has a much lighter shade of hair though, resembling their father’s. Takeru, in this respect, seems to take after his father, with his blue-grey eyes and dark colored hair.

Taking a sip of his beer, Tooru recalls the day his sister announced her pregnancy – not proud as she did when she earned her degree or got her driver’s license, but with a little constraint in her voice, somewhat worried. Tooru was twelve, being much younger than his sister, and in retrospect, too young to understand certain things. He didn’t know that certain questions were better left unasked.

Now, fifteen years and five cans of beer later, he knows from his sister’s somber smile and from the way she leans forward that she allows him to ask.

“Do you still see him?”

“Sometimes,” his sister replies shrugging. “We do work in the same cycles after all.”

“Is he still…?”

“Married? Nah. He got a divorce not long after Takeru got into elementary school.”

There’s a long silence, interrupted only by the loud gulping sounds his sister makes as she downs her beer.

“Way too late. If you ask me,” she finally says, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, “having soulmates is the universe’s ultimate joke on us for thinking we are better than monkeys. Some crazy witchcraft, nothing more.”

“I… don’t know.”

“It’s up to you,” his sister nods, “you can decide whether it’s something you need. I decided it was not needed for my happiness. Or Takeru’s. And look at him, he turned out just fine.”

“Hn. He’s a great kid.”

“I know right? He is my kid after all,” she laughs. “Let’s hope he gets our wits but not our luck!”

She raises her can for a toast.

Tooru clinks his can against hers, his smile just as weak as his will to carry on.

He wants the magic. He doesn’t want to feel stupid for wanting the magic.

But he knows that his sister is not wrong either. Real life is not a fairy tale, and them, Oikawas, have notoriously bad luck.

 

*

 

Yudacchi misses out on their tenth year class reunion because his wife enters into labor the same day afternoon.

Mattsun is missing because he is in China, conducting some very important and very serious business, as usual. Makki doubles the salt in his absence, and he does well to cover them both.

Iwa-chan pretends to be all cool about moving in with Kyoutani, but breaks quickly under the intensive teasing of the Makki-Tooru combo. He is being crowned as the slowest to admit he is in love, and everyone unanimously agrees to call him His Majesty for the rest of the night.

Tooru feels fine. He feels whole. He feels entertained. He gets excited, listening to the others and catching up on the time the missed, and gets quickly immersed into speculations about whether Yudacchi’s newborn child will have their mother’s beauty or their father’s dumb face. Shortly, there is a poll up in front of him, and he collects the bets from the others.

When his phone finally pings few minutes before midnight, their whole table goes suddenly quiet.

“Alright, first picture coming in!” Tooru announces excitedly, flashing the picture out full screen on his phone.

“So cute!”

“Nothing like Kaneo!”

“But his fluffy hair.”

“It’s actually a surprisingly good combination of Kanna and Kaneo,” Makki says the verdict, and swipes in the money from the table. “Alright, those who betted on the baby being ugly pay for the next round for being petty human beings!”

“Eeh,” Tooru complains, but he quiets when Makki pours the money in his hand.

“Our good Captain, for the memories of our wondrous high-school volleyball career, would you lead us once again by buying us all drinks with this money?”

“Why me?”

“Because you are the shittiest one here, Trashkawa,” Iwa-chan supplies.

“Off you go,” Makki pushes Tooru towards the counter.

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m going,” Tooru gives in, pocketing the cash.

Gliding through the tables and people like a professional collision-avoider, Tooru makes his way to the counter.

“Hello, I’d–”

“Terushima, we have a situation,” someone speaks over Tooru and crashes into his side with elemental force, punching the air out of his lungs and sending sparkles all over the place.

Tooru feels as if his entire insides have been vacuumed out through the point where the stranger’s elbow hit him in between the ribs, only to be shaken up and poured back in rapidly.

The dyed blonde bartender turns towards them with a mildly interested look on his face, but nearly drops his glass when he sees them.

“A situation, you surely have,” he says, glancing between his two customers. “But I guess this is not what you meant, right, Suga?”

“Oh,” the man replies, glancing over Tooru and then back to the bartender. “Yeah. No. Yeah.”

“Which one is it?”

It takes the man a second or two to collect himself, gulping down visibly as his eyes meet Tooru’s for a second. Then, pulling his elbow back from Tooru’s side, and consequently stopping all the fireworks happening between them, he turns his attention to the bartender.

“Daichi got angry. I require your help to calm him.”

“Alright,” the bartender replies. “On my way.”

He opens the counter and leaves them without any further words, leaving Tooru to his own devices.

“So… uh,” starts Oikawa Tooru, the popular guy.

“Right,” the man agrees.

“You’re Karasuno’s…”

“Yeah. I mean, I was…”

“I _really_ hated your serves.” And that’s the first thing he tells to his soulmate.

“Likewise,” the man laughs, and it suddenly clicks.

“You know, I used to call you Mr. Refreshing in my head.”

“Oh.”

“But there was nothing refreshing in those calculated serves.”

“I see.”

“Sugawara, right?”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“I’m surprised too. I mean. May I?” Tooru asks, reaching his hand out.

“ _The_ Oikawa Tooru, asking for my hand?” the man teases, then he reaches his arm out laughing.

Tooru lays his palm flat against the forearm of Sugawara, igniting a low glow of purple and rose gold.

“Wow.”

“You know, I never thought we could know each other,” Sugawara says then. As Tooru looks up from their linked arms, he finds the same mesmerized look mirrored in Sugawara’s expression that must be on his own face. “After that one time at the station I thought it must have been someone travelling through town, but never thought it could be…”

“Yeah.”

“Well. If you don’t mind,” Sugawara says stepping sideways, but not out of Tooru’s touch. “I should really check on the situation with–”

“No, wait, please,” Tooru asks, desperate. “Just… let’s exchange phone numbers or something? At least? I don’t have any demands from you, just… let’s not lose each other to the crowd again?”

“Ah,” Sugawara smiles. “Do you plan to leave soon?”

“No… not really.”

“I’m here with friends.”

“Me too–”

“Let me explain them the situation and then we can–”

“Sorry for cutting into your words, I mean, yes, that would be great.”

“Alright. Let’s meet back here in five?”

“I will be waiting.”

“Shouldn’t you also um… talk to your friends?”

“They wouldn’t believe me.”

Sugawara blinks in reply, then bursts out in laughter.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” he says once his laughter settles down. “That’s just something quite plausible with my group too.”

“Then… shall we go over to both tables and explain them the situation together?”

“You just want to brag about your sparkles, don’t you?”

“How can you know me so well when we never even held a conversation before?”

“Soulmates I guess? Also, I really want to show off myself.”

“After you, Sugawara.”

“Just Suga,” the man says, flashing a refreshing smile. “All my friends call me Suga.”

“Then…”

“Shittykawa!” comes a shout from across the room, causing Suga to burst into laughter again. “Where are our drinks, we’ve been waiting for like ten… whoa,” Iwa-chan arrives, staring at their interlinked arms. “That explains I guess? Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Tooru replies, grinning widely at his childhood friend.

“Also, there is no bartender at the moment,” Suga adds instead of an introduction, pointing behind him. “My fault. His husband started making a ruckus at our table so I sent him away.”

“I see,” Iwa-chan says, and flashes out a business card from thin air. “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, by the way. I’m working with the police; in case you need a restraining order.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Suga replies, pocketing the business card with his empty hand. “Sugawara Koushi. I am the owner of this place.”

“Oh,” Tooru says. “That’s so cool, I’m a–”

“Professional volleyball player,” Suga finishes for him. “I know.”

“Can you stop fucking sparkling for a sec, it blinds my eyes.”

“Iwa-chan, you brought KyouKen along?”

“I just arrived,” Kyoutani barks back grumpily. “And I would appreciate if you stopped with the KyouKen stuff already, Shittykawa.”

“Alright, I think this is enough explanation on my side,” Tooru says then, elegantly ignoring everything Kyoutani has just said. “Shall we go over to your friends?”

“If you say so,” Suga says. He turns towards Iwa-chan and Kyoutani, smiling brilliantly. “If you allow me, I would abduct the gem of the national team for a while.’

“I don’t mind,” Iwa-chan replies. “But he still has the money for the next round with him.”

“Here,” Tooru passes back the cash to Iwa-chan.

“Don’t worry about that, the next round is on the house,” Suga says charmingly, and links his arm into Tooru’s. “I will get our bartender in a second. Goodbye, gentleman. Enjoy the night.”

 

It’s in the wee hours of the morning that the bar finally closes and Terushima, the bleached haired bartender leaves with Karasuno’s inebriated ex-captain by his side.

“This is the nature of my work,” Suga says then, closing the cashier. “I sleep during the day, and go to sleep after the sun is up again. Not very compatible with the lifestyle of an active sportsman, but… we could meet up again if you wanted?”

Tooru, exhausted beyond belief, sinks deeper into the counter. His own arm seems to be the most comfortable pillow.

“Oikawa.”

“Tooru.”

“I asked you something.”

“Hn,” Tooru hums in reply, cracking his eyes open. He is met with Suga’s eyes, and sparkles glowing all around them. “Do you think there is a way to control these things, or we have to bear with fireworks all night if we were to sleep together?” he asks absent-mindedly.

Suga pulls his hand away rapidly and blushes brightly. “Naturally, we can suppress them,” he replies. “They are supposed to be an indicator, but they won’t keep sparkling all the time unless we want them to… I mean… oh boy.”

“Hn?”

“It’s not the right time to discuss things like this with you in this state,” Suga nudges Tooru’s shoulder again, and Tooru makes an effort to straighten up in his chair. “You need sleep.”

“You too, Suga.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So… should we meet up for lunch?” Tooru suggests. “What time do you usually have lunch?”

“At seven. In the evening.”

“Oh.”

“Right, what you call lunch would more likely be my breakfast,” Suga laughs. “That’s around two in the afternoon?”

“No, no, dinner is fine, I mean lunch… are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Wonderful!”

“Is that really?”

“Let’s have… breakfast-lunch then,” Tooru offers. “That way, we can spend more time together if we decide to…”

“Decide to what?”

“Say. Are you… seeing someone at the moment?”

“Hmmm, let’s see,” Suga raises a hand to his chin, scrunching up his brows. “I definitely see you at the moment, but if you meant it dating-wise, I have no one.”

“Great!”

“You say that as if you meant it.”

“You say that as if you doubted me.”

“Well, what if I do?” Suga asks back. “I mean… you are _the_ Oikawa Tooru, and I am only me. It’s not like you just found out that your high school crush is your soulmate or anything.”

“I did fancy you,” Tooru argues. “In high school, I mean.”

“You said you hated my serves.”

“I did! Oh, I did. But I loved your guts. That fifth set against Shiratorizawa?”

“You saw that?”

“Don’t ever tell it to any of your teammates but I went to see you guys. Thanks for beating Ushiwaka for me.”

“We didn’t beat him for you.”

“I know. Still. It felt good.”

“And how does it feel, setting for him on the national team?”

“Normal? I mean, he is a boring guy.”

“If you say so.”

“Hn.”

“So you fancied me in high school,” Suga turns back to their original topic, opening the door before Tooru and herding him out to the street gently.

“I kinda did.”

“It’s not that you _wished you did_ , so now you would have a reason to be all gleeful about finding your soulmate?”

“Maybe?” Tooru replies. “The brain is a weird thing, so I won’t fight you on that one. But I remember you. I don’t often remember people who were not regulars on their teams, and in most cases, even the regulars were not as memorable as you…”

“You were my teenage crush,” Suga says then. Simply, easily, destroying all of Tooru’s defenses.

“No way.”

“I know… I have poor taste.”

After a second of thought, Tooru replies: “You do.”

“And I have a crazy schedule.”

“That’s true as well.”

“And you might be more fascinated by the idea of soulmates than me.”

To this, Tooru has no good reply. He only has an honest reply, and that is quite disappointing.

“My parents are soulmates who knew about each other since early childhood and who are still deeply in love to this day. I was crazy about soulmates ever since I can remember.”

“Right.”

“Still. When I saw you sparkle next to me, my first instinct was to grab your arm, drag you to our table and show you to my friends and tell them that I found a real cute soulmate.”

“Right.”

“Then my second thought was to never show you to them because I remembered your vicious serves and my friends don’t deserve your greatness.”

“My greatness.”

“Yeah. You’re amazing.”

“I own a bar, Oikawa.”

“And a wondrous fake smile, and cunning and intellect and problem solving skills.”

“Don’t tell me you have terrible taste too?” Suga laughs as he hails a cab.

“I might,” Tooru replies.

“Let’s continue this conversation after an adequate sleep, alright?” Suga asks then, opening the door to the car for Tooru. “I don’t believe a word you say, being all sluggish and tipsy like that.”

“Good,” Tooru says. “Let’s. See you around two? Where?”

“I would avoid suggesting Sendai Station,” Suga laughs. “We don’t seem to have any luck with that place.”

“Around Aoba then? I know a great place.”

“Alright. Send me the location and we meet up there.”

“It’s a date,” Tooru says and he touches Suga’s cheek in goodbye before he takes a seat in the taxi.

Suga leans down after him, pressing a small peck on his cheek.

“It better be a date,” he whispers, and his voice sends Tooru’s head spinning.

 

*

 

“So?” his sister asks. They are on the swings again in the backyard of their childhood home, beer in hand. They developed this tradition ever since Tooru first bumped into Suga back at Sendai Station all those years ago.

“So what?”

“I heard from mom that you plan to retire.”

“Yes I do.”

“So? Is it because you find it too much to match your lifestyle with that of your sweet little boyfriend?”

“Why would it be?”

“If you feel forced into compromises you don’t want to take, you can always talk to Touko nee-san, you know.”

Tooru can see where his sister’s worries come from – with their lifestyles differing so starkly, it really takes a lot of work and effort for their relationship to work, but he never once felt that he was forced into anything. Not with Suga.

“It’s my knee,” Tooru says after a while. “It has been acting up lately, and the doc said that it’s just a matter of time before it snaps again. And I don’t want to do it again, the surgery, the physiotherapy, the lengthy recovery… if it tears bad, I might even end up with a limp.”

“I see,” his sister says. “I’m sorry.”

“Interestingly, Suga also thought I was doing it for him at first,” Tooru continues. “Sometimes your brains are really derailed the exact same way.”

“I still don’t like him. He is way too pleasant not to hide something behind that refreshing façade.”

“I think he likes you. He likes no-nonsense people.”

“I wonder how he fell for you of all people then.”

“I have terrible taste,” comes a gentle voice from the direction of the house, and as the siblings look up, they are met with Suga, Takeru, and two plates of freshly cut watermelon.

“Brother-in-law!” Touko exclaims, standing up from the swing and coming up to hug her son, then steal a piece of watermelon from Suga’s plate.

“Are you sure it’s not poisoned?” Suga asks her, smirking.

“I’m not!” Tooru’s sister replies, sticking her tongue out. “But I hope you wouldn’t want to kill your one and only sister-in-law.”

“We are not in-laws yet, Touko-san.”

“Yet?!” Tooru and Touko asks in unison.

“Well, if this athlete really retires and decides to become the coach for some country school, like, let’s say, Aoba Johsai, do you think I could keep him to myself unless I chain him to me by law?” Suga laughs, pushing a piece of watermelon in Tooru’s mouth to stop him from arguing. “He will be way too popular with teachers and students alike.”

“That’s for sure,” Touko agrees, while Takeru makes gagging noises expressing his opinion on his uncle being popular with his schoolmates.

“Marriage?” Tooru manages to asks, long seconds later, after he properly chew on his watermelon.

“Why not?” Suga asks, grinning. “Or do you want to continue our current _cohabitation_ to the end of times?”

“Sometimes the way you talk is way too lewd for a teenager to hear,” Touko smirks, hitting Tooru, instead of Suga, in the head.

“Why me?” the man whines in response, hiding behind his shorter, slender, but undoubtedly crazy strong boyfriend.

“Because you were closer,” Touko replies.

“What was wrong with what Suga said, mom?” Takeru asks.

“See. Teaching the kid _words_ ,” Touko says, but her tone has no complaint, only tease in it.

 

*

 

Tooru is thirty-three years old and his favorite fairy tale is a retelling of how he and his husband met. Naturally, meeting at a bar and then bickering with his ex-rivals into the dawn is not something he would really tell to his son, not yet anyways. But he got his father’s storytelling skills, so he twists the story into a new adventure every day.

In one adaptation, Suga and him were knights from two opposing kingdoms, who had three grand battles before they moved onto different battlefields (“But who won?” asks his son, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Me, of course,” Tooru replies. “Liar!” his son gurgles, rocking back and forth sitting in the bed. “I know it was Papa!”). In another, they are Orihime and Hikoboshi, circling around the same town but never quite meeting (“You’re exaggerating too much,” Suga often laughs. He is right. But the baby loves it, so the story stays.)

The accounts of actual happenings melt and merge with elements of magic and creatures of the supernatural, but the essence stays – of two star-crossed lovers, who were once separated, often depicted on opposing ends, but brought together by fate.

On some days, when it’s Suga’s turn to tell the tales, he tells a tale of two people with no tastes, who chose the exact same ill-fitting coat in a store.

“But if it didn’t fit either one of them, why would they still want it?” their son wonders.

“It’s easy,” Suga replies, combing out the baby’s hair from his face with his fingers. “The coat was so ill-fitting, because it was meant to be worn by two people, equal parts. No one chose it before them, but the two people with bad tastes saw great potential in it, and with time they learned how to wear it properly.”

“Then their taste was not that bad after all,” the kid concludes.

“Their taste was not bad at all,” Suga agrees. “Though they could never convince anyone of it.”

“They knew, and that’s what matters!” their son says.

“I agree,” Tooru says, standing in the door. “I came to deliver your goodnight kiss, sir,” he salutes. “And to take Lieutenant Papa with me on a mission.”

“Did you mess up the laundry again, Dad?”

“I might?”

“Well, in this case I deem it necessary to release my tale-teller. You may take him.”

After two goodnight kisses, and then two more, and a toilet-run and an additional tale, and a glass of water drank, Tooru and Suga is finally released by the Emperor of the household.

“You heard him,” Suga says once they close the door to the child’s room behind them. “You may _take me_.”

“When will you stop talking dirty?”

“I don’t know, when you make me?” Suga teases.

“As you wish,” Tooru replies, planting a kiss on the lips of his husband.

At age thirty-three, sappy words like _soulmates_ and _destiny_ sound a little overused. Still, Tooru is just as excited as he was at three, at the thought of living his life with his _chosen one_.


End file.
